


Wind

by AnglophilicSins



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Ezio POV, Gen, it's basically just the revelations trailer lol, set during revelations, the one in which Ezio is maybe a bit obsessed with Altaïr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 23:09:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12468052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnglophilicSins/pseuds/AnglophilicSins
Summary: Ezio has spent his life chasing the wind.





	Wind

**Author's Note:**

> I sat down and wrote this as a way to unwind and relax at the end of a really long and stressful day. Please don't expect too much.

A wind. There’s a wind that blows across the land, a soft sigh on the bright sand.

It’s just him, and his horse. He has lost track of time, he wonders if it matters. Hours, days, weeks. None of it seems to matter anymore.

He can wait.

One foot then the-other, another step another step. His throat is parched, it tastes like sand, it tastes like wind.

He thinks of the cool, the dark. He thinks of the humid, the crowds.

No, no; he wants the wind.

* * *

 

Night.

Nights are cold, nights turn his fingers brown-to-blue, nights prickle the skin on his neck.

Nights darken his vision, slow his reactions, dull his blades. But he has years, years of learning and growing and fighting over them and he is quick-and-nimble.

It is night when he finally sees the wind again.

Bright, luminescent white. Safe, inviting blue. Silent, patient black.

And gold. Sharp but soft, frigid but warm, sweet but bitter.

Gold.

He sees the wind, and he falls to his knees.

* * *

 

Masyaf is a strange place, he decides.

The rotting smell of poor food stores and centuries of death stain its halls and his senses with every breath.

But here the wind is strongest.

Where the wind blows he sees life. Where the wind blows the air is fresh.

The old decrepit halls are filled again with the laughter of children and men and women and the playful clatter of wooden swords.

The invaders pull at him, throw him into the dirt and laugh at him.

_Old man, old man! He comes for an old crown!_

They mean to kill him. He means to die. Is convinced there is no way out. They lead him out into the bitter cold, there is no life, there is no escape.

And he breathes in the wind and remembers to _live_.

 


End file.
